Eyelash Curlers And Butcher Knives
by NearTheEnd
Summary: After a mix-up, Lovino Vargas has accidentally entered himself in the Universal Pageant of Beautiful Peoples And Nations Of The World. How will he survive the dog-eat-dog world of glamour? Spamano, GerIta, and much more!
1. To The Metaphorical Guillotine, Spagna!

**Eyelash Curlers And Butcher Knives**

_~Chapter One: To The Metaphorical Guillotine, Spagna!_

I've been working on this for sooo long! The original content included a Snow White-esque awakening of 'Tonio. But it disappeared mysteriously, so I had to re-write it. Though this version came out a lot better. Enough rambling. Let's get down to business. (To defeat the huns.)  
I do not own Hetalia. World Series or otherwise.  
Spain's P.O.V (Point of View)

* * *

I never thought Lovino Vargas was capable of such nonsense. All these years, I assumed that he would spontaneously combust if put in this situation. Yet, before my eyes, was _the_ Lovino "Romano" Vargas, also known as the (Southern) Republic Of Italy. In a pink, frilly dress complete with a look of murder in his eyes.

* * *

It all started this morning - a very happy and sunny morning. I woke to a brightly lit room with birds chirping melodic hymns outside my window. A smile immediately showed itself, and I was up, basking in the pure bliss of sunbeams that shone down on the windowsill. My arms spread out, reaching to touch the warmth that fell upon me while stretching out my muscles at the same time. I let out a soft moan of contentedness and made my way to the bathroom to "freshen up".

Eventually, I found myself in the kitchen- hiding.

In my defense, I had no idea that opening a washroom door was so dangerous, or that Lovi would happen to be walking past said door just in time to be hit in the face. It was an honest mistake, but Lovi wouldn't have it. His immediate reaction was to yell a stream of profanities, whilst clutching his facial features to make sure they didn't fall off or something, and then declare my death at his hands.

So, I hid in a cupboard that was too high for him to reach. It had been only 10 minutes until the air was free of swear words and the Italian seemed to have resumed his life. Which meant that I'd have to sit there until lunch when he was too hungry to care and demanded me to whip him up something.

It took about an hour before Romano started searching for me. He only sounded partially angry, mostly concern in his voice.

"Oi, Spagna! Where are you? Lunch isn't going to make itself!" This was my cue, and I only spent a few seconds pushing out that housewife feeling of resentment before I jumped – or fell, it was hard to tell with the sudden blur of crashing down – out of my hiding spot.  
"Here I am!" I declared triumphantly. Romano stared at me for a moment in bewilderment, but that didn't deteriorate my smile. What did, however, was a bible flying past my cranium, followed by a frying pan and a ship in a bottle. Darn. That was my favorite one, too.

"You bastard!" The nostalgic feeling of being on a battlefield went through me, triggering my conquistador side. I couldn't help it, it was part of me! Which meant that Lovi couldn't get mad at me when I deflected a vase and tossed it back at him, or when I literally cornered him while holding a broom handle to his throat. I just have little self-control when it comes to that side of me, is all.

* * *

Lunch wasn't particularly interesting at first. We spent a few moments deciding what should be eaten, and then I got to making it. When I was in the middle of my cooking session, an obnoxious chime rang through the house, startling both Romano and I. The Italian cursed the noise for daring to make him jump while I made a beeline for the front door.  
As soon as it was opened wide enough, a flash of white dashed into the room and latched onto Lovi, who was peeking from the kitchen to see who it was. I had half a mind to run over and try to detach the creature, though it was soon revealed that said creature was nothing but an innocently affectionate fratello.

"Ve~," it said in a sing-song voice. I couldn't help but smile, the Northern part of Italy held a large soft spot in my heart. Though it'd practically be a sin to _not_ have a soft spot for him.  
The younger Italian continued to fondle his elder as I watched with a smile on my face. Soon, I felt a strange object tugging on my trousers.

"Wha-?," I stated intelligently. Once I looked down, I caught a smirking Frenchman trying to unlatch my belt. Behind the mischievous pervert was a discarded shirt which looked strangely identical to the one that should have been on my torso. With as much dignity as a shirtless and soon to be pants-less man could muster, I smacked his hand away.  
"Francis? When did you get here?" The man sulked for a moment before lifting up my missing garment and standing up straight.  
"I came with little Feli, of course! We have much news to tell you abo-"

"OI! Tomato bastard!" As close as Francis and I were, I couldn't help but abandon him for my beloved Lovi. Mostly because I probably did something that needed to be corrected immediately or punishment will ensue, but there was love mixed in there somewhere.  
"Yes, Lo-..what is that?" A tanned index finger, presumably mine, pointed to a pile of what looked like tar and tapioca balls mixed.  
"Your cooking, idiot." I nodded, not fully understanding the statement. After a moment of reflection, I realized something – I was making lunch before I answered the door! But where did it...oh. I let out a sigh and cleaned up the mess, Feli offering to make pasta as a substitute. I agreed with relief and lent a hand to the Italian.

While indulging in true Italian cuisine, Francis spoke of a contest of sorts that judged contestants on their beauty – a "pageant" he called it. Feliciano contributed his commentary as Francis explained more.  
"There are different subcategories to help the judges decide who is the most magnifique. Like a talent section, and, my favorite, the swimsuit segment." The man raised his eyebrows in an all-knowing fashion, chuckled lightly, and took a sip of his wine.  
"Ve~," Feliciano concurred, "the girls are really pretty aren't they? And big brother France and I get to judge them!" There was a strange silence that lasted for a few minutes before Lovi started hacking and sputtering.

"Y-You WHAT?." His voice would have been more threatening had his throat not been scratched at so recently. Nonetheless, the inflection he used sounded demanding enough to make Feli flinch.  
"Oui, Italie and I are going to be judges for this year's Universal Pageant of Beautiful Peoples And Nations Of The World. Or World Pageant for short." I smiled and grasped Lovi's wrist under the table. I had an instinct that told me if I hadn't done so, he might have reduced the number of World Pageant judges, and that wouldn't be fair to the contestants.

Feliciano held up an official document of the pageant, pointing to two names with an excited smile.  
"See, see, fratello? Isn't it exciting?" I could have sworn I heard a low growl come from the older Italian, but ignored it. Francis sighed in response.  
"Sadly, there is also a petition against such a glorious pageant." The man held up another paper which held a handful of names signed sloppily on rows of lines.  
"They say that nations and humans shouldn't be grouped together, and if a country wins then they will be seen as superior to others." I nodded, grasping the main idea of the statement.  
Romano relaxed and took to playing with his food while grumbling, which left me to release his wrist.

After a peacefully quiet siesta, it was my job to bid the duo farewell. We exchanged hugs and made small talk for a while before Francis seemed to have had an epiphany.  
"Oh my, I almost forgot!" The man made a dash for the kitchen, Feliciano and I following in confusion. We found Romano hurriedly signing one of the papers while the Frenchman was tugging on it. After being signed, the paper was let go and a small fuss was made.  
"You wrinkled the paper! Ah, well." Francis's eyes widened suddenly as he glanced at the paper, a smirk forming.  
"Ce devrait être intéressant.~," he remarked. What that meant, I couldn't tell. I settled for shrugging it off and guided the guests to the front door.  
Lovi followed out of what could be mistaken as courtesy, but he assured me that he 'just wanted to make sure those idiots were gone.'

* * *

I woke to a strange sensation in my pants.

Well, in my pocket, but it was my pant's pocket. I dug in my pocket briefly to find my mobile device buzzing. It took me a moment to answer, due to my drowsiness I suppose, but once I did I was greeted rather kindly.

"Ah, Mon Ami! Would you kindly open the door in about...2 minutes, s'il te plait?" It was Francis, which was obvious from the French phrases. I made sure he knew I was in agreement before hanging up and going to the front door.

Once the two minutes were up, I pulled the door wide open and found a duo of beaming nations.  
"Ve~, Ve~! Big brother Spain, we're here to give you..these!" On the last word, Feliciano thrust a collection of papers in front of me. My eyes adjusted to the print as I read aloud:

"_Dear Lovino Vargas, congratulations!_

_You have officially been entered in the Universal Pageant of Beautiful Peoples And Nations Of The World!_

_Thank you for signing up! We_ _look forward to seeing you strut your stuff on the stage._

However, before you enter there are a few necessities you will need to cover."

I swallowed hard, Lovi was not going to like this.

"Um, Francis? I don't remember Lovi signing up for-"  
"Oh, but he did!"Rudely interrupting my sentence was a piece of paper with the words "Contestants" printed at the top. Sure enough, at the bottom of the page, was the handwriting of the Italian I had raised.  
Francis was wearing an annoying smirk while Feliciano looked like he was about to explode of joy. I contemplated slamming the door in their faces, but that was Lovi's job.  
"Um..okay. I guess I'll give this to Lovino then..?" The two seemed content with my decision and invited themselves in to watch while I did the deed.

We made our way up the stairs, past a large variety of hallways, through a couple of doors, and reached our destination with anxiety and stampedes of bulls running in our stomachs. Well, mine. The other nations looked rather amused at my fate.  
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Lovi's room. There was the sound of shuffling of what I thought sounded like sheets and then footsteps.  
"What?" Was my polite greeting. A nervous smile was present on my face as I took a step towards the metaphorical guillotine.  
"Umm...I think you should see this." I handed him the few papers that were given to me before hand.  
"Estimado Señor, por favor asegúrese de que yo vivo para ver el mañana.."I whispered desperately.

* * *

Translation:  
(Spanish)  
Estimado Señor, por favor asegúrese de que yo vivo para ver el mañana.. – Dear Lord, please ensure that I live to see tomorrow..  
(French)  
Magnifique – Beautiful  
Ce devrait être intéressant~ – This should be interesting~  
Mon ami – My friend (male)  
s'il te plait? – Please? (informal)

**A/N**: Reviews make the world go round! More than 3 = Speedier than The Flash update.


	2. You're Beautiful, It's True!

**Eyelash Curlers And Butcher Knives**

_Chapter Two: You're Beautiful, It's True~!_

I'm sorry this took so long, guys! I'll try to update this faster, but I'm also trying to do so with three other stories, so it might be updated every two weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
I do not own Hetalia.

Spain's P.O.V (Point Of View)

* * *

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up, a little to the left.

Down.

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING YOU BASTARD?"

I stared blankly at him, suddenly remembering that he was talking to me. I put on a smile, completely oblivious to the conversation, and nodded.

"Of course, Lovi!" The Italian just made some sound of anger and stomped away.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

I tried to listen to him, I really did, but his curl is just so distracting when he's angry. It bounces and dances in the air like a fly against a window. It's just so..fascinating. And gravity-defying. It's hard to focus on Lovino's fury when he starts ranting and moving around a lot. Or when he's stomping away so angrily, making his curl bounce even more than before.  
I smiled, he's so cute.

After finding out about his sudden entry in the World Pageant, Romano decided that the next thing on his schedule would be to let off some steam in the form of yelling. At me. I didn't mind so much at first, but it got a bit less cute once he started calling me names.

"So, what'd you do this time?" I blinked, where was that voice coming from? I looked all around me and no one was there. Was the ceiling talking to me? It didn't seem to have formed a mouth, so then how could it-

"Oi, Toni, over here!"_ Toni_? The only person who calls me that is..

"Ah, Gilbert! I didn't see you there!," I said, opening my arms for a hug. The Prussian scoffed before giving a small welcome wave. I nodded and my arms were back at my sides.

"Well?," he questioned. I stared at him blankly for a minute or two, a friendly smile never leaving my features. He waited a moment, leaving me to dedicate said moment to trying to figure out what he was expecting from me. Did he ask me something before?

"Oh! Lovi's just mad because he accidentally signed up for this pageant. I don't know why, but yelling at me seems to have calmed him down a bit."

Gilbert gave me a puzzled expression before shrugging it off.

"Whatever works for you," he muttered. I wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean, so I just nodded in response.

A comfortable silence filled the air. Prussia had a look of deep thought, which led me to wonder what he was thinking about.

"How did he manage to _accidentally_ sign himself up for that?" I shrugged, unsure of that myself. Was that what Gilbert was thinking about?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was on purpose." A light chuckle mixed in with his response, causing me to laugh with him.

"That's so silly ,_ mi amigo_! My Lovi would never do something like that!" Gilbert smirked in a strange manner and shook his head.

"Whatever you saaay~!" His tone came off as playful, but his expression never changed as he chuckled quietly to himself. A loud slam resounded through the room and I felt slightly nervous.

"Okay stupid Spagna, my boss told me that the pageant might help with publicity. So, since you're the bastard that got me into this, I need you to take me dress sho-..." I turned my head to see Lovino with wide eyes and a blush – be it from anger or embarrassment, I'm not sure – slowly growing. Ah, that's right. Lovi doesn't exactly approve of my best friends.

"What the hell is that potato bastard doing here?," he asked in a voice that seemed to be testing the waters. I knew that depending on my answer, he would either attack or just yell in place. I didn't exactly like either one, but if he attacked Gilbert then the chances were that the Prussian would fight back without mercy.

"He..um..came to tell you that Hungary would help you shop for the pageant!," I answered nervously. Personally, I thought it was a wonderful answer, considering it had been created in less than five seconds. Lovino blinked in surprise and shrugged in approval before glaring one last time at Gilbert and walking off. Gilbert turned to me and gave me an unreadable look.

"I'm banned from Austria's house, you know," he muttered. That might be a problem.

"Well then I'll ask her!," I said, resolving our problem. The Prussian laughed and shook his head, saying something about 'walking in on kinky shit' and 'deadly frying pans'. I smiled obliviously, not quite understanding what he was talking about. It couldn't be too hard to convince Hungary to help me, could it?

* * *

I was wrong.

I was very, very wrong.

After nearly half an hour of convincing Austria that I wasn't here as a spy for Prussia and that I would only talk to Hungary for a limited amount of time, I explained my situation to Elizabeta. Of course, her reaction was to burst out laughing. Sadly, this took ten minutes of my time-limit and therefore I only had five minutes left to make some kind of deal with her before Roderich would demand I leave the premises.

"Please, Eliza! I don't know anyone else to turn to," I begged. At this point, I had thrown my dignity out the window and was down on my knees. The Hungarian sighed and crossed her arms, staring down at me while contemplating her options.

"I have the full right to dress him up in anything and everything I choose, and every time he fusses or bitches me out, I get ten bucks," she said, smirking like a she-wolf. Reluctantly, I nodded in agreement.

"In exchange, I will help him shop for the appropriate clothing," she went on with that creepy smirk, "and...I'll even throw in a few pictures if you'll allow me to go in the dressing room with hi-"

"No."

"But Toni! Think about it! I'm going to have to get him a few dresses, including those skimpy maid dresses that I heard you liked, and even a swimsuit or two."

"..."

I felt my face heat up at the thought of my lovely little Lovi in a shorter, much more revealing version of his old maid dress.

I felt my pants grow a little tighter at the thought of him in nothing but a swimsuit with droplets of water streaming down his-

Focus, Antonio. Focus.

"N-no pictures." It was then that Hungary thought for a moment, seemingly willing to bargain.

"Fine. But you still have to pay me," she concluded. I sighed and agreed with a sense of reluctance. We were about to shake hands to seal the deal when a thought popped up in my head.

"Ah, I won't pay you if I hear about any funny business, Elizabeta," I said seriously. She groaned but stubbornly agreed to keep her hands off him unless it was absolutely necessary.

"I'll come over tomorrow with some clothes for him to try on so I can figure out his size," she told me on the last minute of my time. I nodded and left quickly before Roderich could come in to yell at me.

* * *

The next morning, I woke to the shrieking of a hotheaded Italian and the cackle of a very scary woman by the name of Elizabeta. I wasted no time rushing out of bed and running to the kitchen to find Hungary wielding a frying pan positioned in the air to strike at my little Lovi.

Being the incredibly courageous and wonderful boss I am – or _was,_ actually – I decided to sacrifice my own well being for the Italian. I threw myself in between the two, successfully defending Lovino from any future harm that could be directed at him.

"Oh, good morning Antonio~!"

Well, didn't see that coming.

Despite the strange timing, courtesy was courtesy and I had no choice but to reply with a greeting as well as a smile to match Elizabeta's. Though Lovino didn't take kindly to such behavior, he let it slide this time and used this moment to slip away from the Hungarian woman and hide in his room, (of which was well equipped with several locks on the door due to his paranoia of Francis sneaking into his room at night).

"Elizabeta, why were you holding a frying pan threateningly at my little Lovi?," I asked, a smile still present on my face. She dropped the pan and took a step away from me, scrambling to rid herself of the evidence.

"Well, you see, I happened to arrive here in the early hours of the morn, so I'm sure Lovino was asleep and therefore didn't hear me get here. Since no one seemed to be up, I decided to take it upon myself to make some breakfast," she explained with a nervous grin. I didn't notice before, but my hand had been in the form of a fist at some point. I let out a sigh of relief as my hand released itself from it's position and loosely hung at my side.

"However, as I said, Lovino didn't know I was here and probably heard something in the kitchen and decided to...be 'the hero' as America would put it," she continued, "So he hid around the corner and threw something into the kitchen, trying to hit me. Of course, my reaction would be to come at him with some sort of weapon. So, I grabbed a frying pan and swung it into the air and he screamed. That's when you came in."

I nodded, absorbing the information. After processing it a little more, I laughed and my body relaxed.

"What a hilarious misunderstanding~! He's very brave to try to take on a possible robber like that," I swooned a bit, feeling admiration well up in my ten-times-too-large heart, "He's so cute~!"

Elivabeta nodded and laughed along, still a bit tense. She turned back to continue her cooking with something of a nervous smile. I sighed airily and walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder as I watched her measure ingredients.

"However, if you ever hurt Lovino...," I began, my voice a bit lower and much more stern, "I can assure you that it won't be so easy to turn away and laugh it off."

I felt her shiver slightly and nod. With that, I slipped my hands into my pockets and walked over to the other side of her, still watching her cook with minimal interest.

"So, what are you making?," I asked casually. Elivabeta froze and gave me a strange look; confused, nervous, partially terrified, and annoyed all at the same time. She quickly regained her sunny composure and smiled at me, giving me a quick summary of the meal. We talked for a bit as she walked me through the process of preparation and soon it was time to inform Lovino that the food was finished.

I walked at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sweet aroma that filled the air. As I reached his room, I heard a quiet mumbling behind the slightly-open door. I contemplated peeking in and listening and decided to weigh my options. If I were to spy a bit on Lovino, he wouldn't nessesarily have to catch me. A perk of being one of the 'Bad Touch - or Friends depending on the person - Trio' is that we are practically ninjas when we want to be. But the downside to being part of said trio is also that people tend to go ballistic if we're ever caught.

Especially those who were currently modeling an array of female clothing in front of a mirror. I felt my heart speed up a bit as I watched him, my eyes hungrily taking in every inch of skin that was showing. And there was a lot of skin showing. However, my eyes seemed to favor that patch of skin just below the hemline of the skirt he was sporting. I felt my hand clench into a fist as he twirled around, the flaps of the skirt lifting ever-so slightly to show part of his upper thigh. His legs were so smooth, too. My eyes moved up in a desperate attempt to slow the flow of my blood. I felt myself lick my lips as I saw his shirt, which was tight in all the right places.

Suddenly, Lovino froze. I panicked a bit, wondering if I had been caught yet remaining still in hopes that if I mimicked a tree then I would suddenly be invisible. Trees were sneaky like that. You never really notice them until you've run into one.

"God, I look so stupid," he muttered to the mirror. I felt my heart sink a little and resisted the urge to shower the boy with compliments. His amber eyes began to water in frustration and he glared at himself, angrily shoving the mirror. He turned around and tore off the skirt, throwing it at the door in a fit. He gripped the bottom of his shirt and lifted it off his head, letting it drop to the floor. My heart began to hurt a little as I watched. Oh, how I wanted to wipe those tears away and just hold him...

"I bet Feliciano would look just 'adorable' in these clothes. He looks good in everything," he mumbled as he clumsily picked up a different shirt and threw it on.

"I can't believe my stupid boss agreed to this. Everyone's going to laugh at stupid little South Italy when he trips onto the stage and looks like a fucking drag queen." He let out a frustrated grunt and laughed dryly.

"And to top it all off, _Antonio_'s going to be there."

I stiffened. Did he just...? He never calls me by my human name. He sighed and dropped onto his bed, gripping the sheets and staring at the floor. A small alarm went off in my head as I heard the smallest of whimpers and watched as a single tear ran down Lovino's cheek and dropped to splash onto his leg. I had to do something.

So, I took a step back and regained my happy demeanor by thinking happier thoughts. One deep breath later, I knocked lightly on the door. I swear I could hear the panic on Lovi's face as he rushed to slip on some pants before fully opening the door.

"W-What do you want, bastard?," he asked. His tone wasn't convincing at all, and I'm sure he noticed it as he tensed up a bit in hopes that I wouldn't notice.

"Ah, the food is finished~!," I announced with a smile. He nodded and walked out of his room, wiping his eyes in an attempt to look like he was simply tired and hadn't been crying a minute ago. I followed him to the kitchen with an automatic smile on my lips.

"Sorry for scaring you back there, Lovi," Hungary apologized. The Italian shrugged, (which meant 'it's okay just don't do it again' in Lovi-speak), and took his plate to the table. I followed suit, giving my sincerest thanks to the chef before deciding to take a seat across from Lovino.

It was silent for a moment and I watched him eat out of the corner of my eye. He still had a somewhat sad look on his face, but he seemed to be thinking about something.

"Lovino."

His head snapped up as he blankly looked over at me. I smiled the warmest smile I could muster and gazed at him.  
"You're very beautiful," I nearly whispered. He stared at me for a moment, his cheeks retaining that pinkish tint I'm so used to seeing. He seemed to be speechless. I almost began to apologize, thinking I had somehow broken his fragile mental balance, but he spoke first. It was a quiet whisper that could only be heard by the most sensitive of ears, but I heard it nonetheless.

"Thank you," he said. There was a faint smile on his lips as he continued to eat. I nodded and stared at his eyes. Though he was trying hard not to smile, his eyes were clearly betraying him as they were shining bright. I smiled, my heart fluttering a bit as I watched him.

Very beautiful, indeed.

* * *

**A/N: ** Reviews/Constructive Critisism = Welcome. Also, I'll try to encorporate the pairings in next chapter, but for now the definite ones are Spamano, GerIta, USUK and PruCan.


End file.
